The Title Has Yet To Occur To Me
by Miss Misled-Bloodshed
Summary: ONE DIRECTION FANS DO NOT READ! You'll hate me forever. Another clueless person tunes in on the 'W- word' and Johnny exacts his revenge. What he didn't plan on, however, is pop culture crashing the party. ONE SHOT.


**HI! HOW ARE YOU? YOU GOOD? THAT'S WONDERFUL!**

**Ahem sorry about that. I am very high on-**

**SQUIRREL!**

***cough cough* VERY high on sugar. Plus I'm happy. Mix those two things and give me some free time...you can expect some strange stuff.**

**Well, looky here! 2 reviews and favourites for PIAV in a matter of a day! Thank you so much to yasdnilgoth and TheFabulousHeather for that! I must admit, I didn't think anyone would read it, never mind review and favourite! Thanks again!**

**Okay, so I must warn you that this fic might prod at some of the craziest fangirl bases to date. Their voices are autotuned and lyrics are all about girls and partying all night, and thanks to SnowFallsSilverOnRoute37 (check her out, she is awesome!) and one of our all nighters spamming each other with opinions and fangirling out, one of the lines in one of their songs (I don't know which one) goes: '_I want to touch it and see if it's soft.'_**

**Hm.**

**I OWN NOTHING. NOUGHT. ZERO. ZILCH.**

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Two weeks and 5 Happy Noodle Boy comics had passed since Nny's Cafe Le Prick massacre, and he had kept his promise to himself. He had not gone near the place since then, and to be honest was feeling a lot happier than he had of late. He wrote in his Die-ary often, every day if he could, and if he felt like it, went out to kill one of the neighbourhood cats. But that was only on Sundays. Tuesday's were taken and every other day of the week was debating whether or not he should give in to Psychodoughboy. But even that couldn't get his spirits down, and Psychodoughboy was probably the worst thing to occur in Nny's life.

Until that fateful Wednesday midday.

He had been having a perfectly normal day. The sun was rising, and he was cursing it for being so beautiful, the birds were chirping and he was shooting them with his "borrowed" pellet gun*, and the neighbourhood kids were out playing frisbee or whatever the heck normal kids play nowadays (the author wouldn't know) while Johnny screamed into his pillow. Yep, his day had been rather adequate. And it was only when he chose to go out and seek revenge on whoever had wronged him in even the slightest way, bring them back unconscious in his tiny car and torture them did it happen.*author stretches cramped fingers*

'P-please...just let me go, I-I'm sorry!' The weedy man cried, his voice shaking uncontrollably.

' And for what are you sorry?' Asked Nny, calmly.

'Uh...I...I don't know... what did I d-do?' Said the man, daring to look up into Nny's soulless eyes.

'You know what you did! I was simply sitting outside that infernal bohymouth Wal-Mart when you decided to use that word! What was it? Hmmm? What was the word you used to describe me, as if you are fucking Gok Wan or somebody as high standardization as that prick? _What was the word, goddamnit?!'_

He pulled his knife out of his holder and pointed it at the man's chest. The man was chained to the wall, his arms and legs far enough apart that he couldn't reach out for Johnny, much less escape. The chains were joined, so that if he reached with one arm the other will be pulled back. But this wasn't all. His tie was nailed to the walls one end with the nail in it, the other around his neck. If the man even tried to escape, a series of bricks in the wall pushed into his back and forced him forward, the chains pulled back, and therefore he would be strangled by his own tie. It was a slow and embarrassing way to die. Just how Johnny liked them.

The man began to cry, the tears falling freely seeing as he couldn't wipe them away. Johnny just jabbed (haha, alliteration) the knife in harder so that a trickle of blood stained the colourless shirt. The man whimpered.

'I'm still waiting. What was the word, asshole?'

'I don't kn-kn-know! I can't remember!'

'You had better start to!'

The man shook his head to attempt to get the mini Niagara Falls from tickling his cheeks and ultimately sealing his fate with this conscienceless man. 'Uh, warped? No...no... weird? N-no, not that either...oh, please...don't hurt me, I have a wife and kids, two beautiful kids... please...it was-'

And it was then that the radio changed from the classical channel to something else. Something so despicable, so pathetic, so... unworthy of being called music that it made Nny feel physically ill.

'-_ut yo' booty don't need explainin'_

_All I really need to know is when you_

_Talk dirty to me.'_

Nny took his glare away from the trembling man on the wall to the only electrical object in his house, minus the doorbell and unused telephone. He couldn't understand what he was listening to. Was this some kind of made up language? A long dead civilisation come together to create neon-ecto energy sucked out of spirits and transformed into soundwaves for one's ears to swallow? Highly unlikely.

'What on Earth's grey crust-?' Nny began, before walking over to the radio and pressing buttons, trying to get back to (insert some German musician here). He only turned the "music" louder. He started to get frustrated, jabbing the buttons and twisting the knobs quicker and harder. The trumpets ended, and instead the radio host's annoying nasal voice pierced his ears like pins.

'Truly amazing tune there by Jason Derulo. What a genius. Now, for the hottest boy band to grace the planet: they are all over teen magazines and the media, and young girls can't get enough of them. It's the one, the only, One Direction!'

The music started, and Nny felt something kick in his stomach and make him retch. It was just too... _happy._

'_You're insecure, don't know what for,_

_You're turning head when you walk through the do-o-or_

_Don't need makeup to cover up_

_Being the way that you are is eno-u-ugh,'_

'What on earth is this infernal racket?!' Johnny shouted at the radio. His finger-pressing turned into full on slamming the buttons with his fist, until without warning the buttons slammed down all the way and were stuck. Still, the music played.

_' Baby you light up my world like nobody else_

_The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed_

_The way you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell_

_You don't know, oh oh, you don't know you're beautiful!' _

Nny snapped and picked up the portable radio, running up the basement stairs and throwing it as far as it would go outside. Sighing and shaking with rage, he stomped back down to the basement, leaving bloody footprints in his wake. The man he had strapped to the wall was sobbing heavily, the chains rattling as his shoulders shook.

' For God's sake, would you shut up?' Said Johnny, picking up the knife he had dropped in his hurry to get upstairs and pointing it back at the man. The man shook his head to get rid of the river cascading down his cheeks and looked up at Johnny, his eyes red and puffy. 'I was s-supposed to take m-my daughter t-t-to see them... they're in town...please, let me g-go... I promise you'll never see me again... p-please...' Johnny shook his head in disgust and pulled a lever, which pushed the bricks behind the man forward. Waiting for him to beg to die was so last year. And besides, if the group were really in town, he was hungry for blood. Auto-tuned blood.

Within minutes, the man was limp, his life force evaporated into nothing. Johnny wiped his hands on his skinny jeans and whistled, going back upstairs to fetch something heavy and sharp. Maybe his mini-machetes. He had cleaned them when he got home from the Cafe Le Prick incident, feeling he might need them for later. And he was right. See, kids? It always pays to be prepared.

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**Any Warm Bodies fans in the house? You may have got the reference in there.**

**Well, that's that! People have been asking for another JTHM shot, so here it is! If you're a fan of the band and you're reading this, did you not see the summary? Don't say I didn't warn ya!**

**Sorry for the long wait between stories. I can't help it, Invader Zim is just too addictive! Curse you, Jhonen Vasquez, CUUUUUUURSE YOUUUUUUUUU!**

**Thanks for reading! :D**


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